


Left Unstated

by Jamilton



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Awkwardness, Boys Kissing, First Meetings, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Pining, Post-it Notes, Shy Thomas Jefferson, Shyness, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-19 04:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14229687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamilton/pseuds/Jamilton
Summary: Alex gawked at his retreating back. Even Washington, usually unflappable regardless of situation, was stunned, staring at the two Virginians as they made their way to the doors of the White House.It was Alex who found his voice first."Well, that was rude."





	Left Unstated

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, in order for the soulmate words to work, they have to be said directly to said soulmate, and said soulmate has to hear them.

Alex was sure the world was going to end.

They were positioned just outside of the White House; Alex with his arms crossed firmly over his chest, Washington with his shoulders relaxed and hands resting inside his pockets. The weather was amiable enough, with light clouds and a soft sky, yet despite the agreeable weather, Alex was tetchy. His jaw ached from gritting his teeth so tightly, and his hands were clenched into tight fists, nails digging into his palms.

"Play nice." Washington's tone was warning, and he frowned faintly as soon as he observed Alex's defensive posture out of the corner of his eye.

"I will if  _he_  does." Alex's stubborn reply seemed unsurprising to Washington, who gave a small sigh in response.

"I know you, Alexander. This man will test all the patience you have." Washington responded carefully, shifting slightly so he was able face him. At this, Alex allowed a scowl, turning his head to the left, knowing full well that Washington was right.

"He's late." Alex eventually muttered, shifting his weight and casting a baleful eye to a blithely cheerful sky.

"He's  _Thomas Jefferson_."

"Let me guess, to him, everyone else is just early." 

Washington didn't reply, but the corners of his lips quirked upwards, and that was just as much of an answer.

"His ideas are stupid." Alex added, sounding only _slightly_ petulant, just to make sure that Washington knew his reluctance to not just tolerate an unwelcome guest, but to  _greet_  him. As though Alex  _wanted_  him here.

"You haven't had one conversation with the man." Washington pointed out, now openly smiling, albeit with slight undertones of fond exasperation. Alex muttered something under his breath, scuffing his shoes against the paving.

Then, a car was pulling up - a black  _Ferrari_ , and Alex's fingers were itching with the urge to make some neat little scratches with his house key, because who the hell drives a  _Ferrari_  to  _work_? - and Washington straightened his posture, shoulders squaring. His face flickered from grim resolute to a neutral, impassive expression that reminded Alex uncomfortably of Burr. He followed suite, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he tried to reign in his rising impatience.

"Play nice." Washington reminded him, voice muted to a quite murmur as the car doors were opened. Madison was the first to step out, eyes as wide as his grin, with a slight skip to his step that raised all sorts of questions.

Then Jefferson approached them and Alex's mind stuttered to an abrupt halt.

He was undoubtedly Jefferson, judging by that -  _aggravating_  - smirk and relaxed shoulders, as though the world belonged to him. This alone should have frustrated him, should have set his teeth on edge, but he found himself  _staring,_ watching the confident steps with something akin to vivid fascination.

The clothes he wore were loud, distinct, and  _magenta_  - he'd be painfully easy to pick out of a crowd, and Alex supposed that was the point. Yet, despite Jefferson's strange-borderline-offensive choice in clothing, he was able to look ( _amazing_ ) half-decent. Even from a distance, Alex could see that Jefferson's eyes glittered with blatant intelligence, his hair soft-looking and curly and Alex wanted to run his hands through.

Unfortunately, Alex was headstrong, stubborn even, but not  _blind_.

Thomas Jefferson was  _handsome._

Alex didn't even bother to try and redirect his gaze, even as the pair approached, even as Jefferson returned his stare, dark eyes raking up and down Alex's figure, eyes asking an unpronounced question. Alex swallowed, suddenly unable to think or focus on anything but dark eyes and a winning smile. He was left feeling particularly stupid at the strange look Madison sent him.

"Mr Jefferson, welcome home." Washington greeted, voice smooth, despite the obvious tension that hung. Jefferson's eyes still remained on Alex, cutting right through him and Alex wanted to fidget under the intense scrutiny, but his pride refused to let him do so.

"Mr Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton." Alex instead greeted, holding his hand out, sounding far more confident than he actually was.

Jefferson stared at him, then at his outstretched hand. His easy smirk was replaced with a calculating frown, head tilted to the left in surprised consideration. Alex shifted his weight, glancing at Washington for confirmation that he hadn't done anything wrong, and was startled to see that Washington looked equally perplexed. Without a word, Jefferson shouldered past them.

"Thomas!" Madison spluttered, indignant, before hurrying after him.

Alex gawked at his retreating back. Even Washington, usually unflappable regardless of situation, was stunned, staring at the two Virginians as they made their way to the doors of the White House.

It was Alex who found his voice first.

"Well, that was rude." 

 

 

**

 

 

Soulmates had never influenced much of his life. This was a fact that often surprised people; the topic of soulmates was redundantly discussed. It was common for people to spend years searching for their soulmate; some even opted to travel around the world in search, despite the fact that most people were gifted with an unpresuming  _'hey',_ or ' _hello_ '.

To nobody's surprise but their own, Lafayette and Hercules were thrilled with their own marks, and with the fact that they were predestined to be together. On the day before Hercules's eighteenth birthday, they had made an agreement; no matter what Hercules's mark said, they would still be together.

Hercules's mark showed up mid-afternoon, and read, in distinctive, visible script across his cheek, " _Fuck me!"_

Lafayette's responding mark was discovered on the same day, worn like a bracelet across his wrist, and despite being a year under the usual age of gaining a mark. It had read, in thinly spaced block letters,  _"Sure, but at least let me buy you dinner first_."

John was still in search of his mate, albeit not as actively as he originally planned. Alex reckoned he was still offended by the neat, articulate script wrapped across his neck that had shown up two years ago. Admittedly, " _Talk less - fools who run their mouths off wind up dead,"_ wasn't a very romantic thing to hear from your intended.

Alex hadn't given much thought to soulmates until Jefferson had shown up.

This was because Alex hadn't  _meant_  to glace at Jefferson's mark. It was just  _there_ , in a messy, cramped script, framing his forearm. He found himself staring at it, transfixed, head tilted to the left in order to get a better view of the black font. Alex wasn't able to read any of it before Jefferson had noticed. His eyes narrowed, and he pulled at his sleeves to shield his mark from curious eyes. The wrathful glare he was given from Jefferson was amusing yet uncalled for.

Jefferson's mark was impossible to stop thinking about. Granted, soulmates were personal, and it was impolite to try and read a soulmate mark without permission, but Alex couldn't help but wonder. Alex tended to keep his mark to himself, but only due to the sheer unusualness of it, which never failed to garner more questions.

There was a small murmur of something strangely akin to hope. Maybe Jefferson was his-

Alex dismissed that thought before it finished. The next thought, however, was more difficult to shake.

Was Jefferson's soulmate a man? 

He didn't know why it was  _his_  mark in particular fascinated him. He wanted to trace his fingers down the black script, to feel the warmth of Jefferson's skin against his fingertips and that made  _no sense_. He didn't even know what Jefferson's words  _said,_ and that was bothering him more than he cared to admit.

When he had confided in Lafayette - and the fact that he had confided in  _Lafayette_  underlined how bewildered he was to this particular situation - Alex was laughed at for a solid two minutes, and received no reliable feedback whatsoever. He was left to think of an appropriate reason on his own.

(And if Alex  _was_  able to come up with an explanation, well, that was nobody else's business but his own).

(He ruthlessly pushed it away).

 

 

**

 

 

"Alex."

The voice was whispered, cautious.

Alex tried to shift to face the intruder, but found none of his limbs would cooperate. Opening his eyes was simply not an option, nor was replying; his head was reeling with exhaustion, back aching from sleeping in an awkward position. There was a pause, then the sound of feet moving against protesting floorboards. Alex tensed, straining to hear what was going on, before a clear _click_ sounded in the room.

" _Ngh_." Alex replied articulately, arm thrown across his eyes to block the hostile light now brutally attacking him. "Go  _away_."

" _Alex_." The voice repeated, more insistant. This time, when Alex didn't reply, a finger started jabbing him in the back. Alex shifted to lie on his back. The finger started prodding Alex's stomach. He opened one eye and was unsurprised to find that it was a cheerful looking John trying to wake him.

" _What_?" He slurred, making sure his frustration and exhaustion were put across in his tone.

"It's seven in the morning." John replied merrily. "Suffer in the land of the living."

"Seven?" Alex repeated. " _Urgh_."

"Tired?"

"Yeah. No idea why." Alex said.

"Really." John deadpanned, fixing Alex with a steely gaze. "No idea."

"Shut up." Alex scowled. Admittedly, pulling an all nighter to complete his first draft of a financial plan wasn't exactly an ideal move, but Alex felt personally offended by his level of exhaustion; he had done nothing to warrant this level of drowsiness.

Alex felt like shit.

"You look like shit." John cheerfully informed him, eyes wide and earnest.

"Thank you, John. Real  _confidence booster._ " Alex grumbled, rubbing blearily at his eyes.

"You're welcome."

"Just pass me some damned coffee."

At this, John stilled, face contorted into a grimace. He fidgeted with his hoodie sleeve, head cast down and refusing to meet Alex's eyes. By now, the sense of dread had sneaked up on him, gripping at his throat and cutting through the usual grogginess of the morning. His eyes widened at the implications of John's hesitation.

"John." Alex said carefully, blinking slowly as he tried to fend off the rising horror. "Pass me the coffee."

"Well." John said breezily, despite his smile being significantly more strained than before. "About that."

Needless to say, John did not pass him the coffee.

 

 

**

 

 

The seconds were inching by. Minutes felt like hours, and Alex kept on zoning in and out of the morning meeting, much to the general frustration of the entire cabinet. Washington was peering at him with open concern, and Alex ignored it to the best of his abilities. His eyes felt noticeably heavy, and, after a small sigh of defeat, he rested his head against the desk. This had the desired effect; he was now able to focus on the second draft of his financial plan without pausing to reread the sentence he had just written.

The office was significantly Jefferson-less, and, strangely, the entire place looked darker when Jefferson wasn't there to brighten it with his signature, god-awful shade of magenta. It left Alex consistently trying to ignore the urge to glance at the door, just to check for offensive colors and a confident gait.

"How much sleep did you have?" Burr asked, startling Alex out of his own thoughts. Alex wanted to throw a stapler at his face. He settled for violently stabbing his paper for the full stop, creating a small rip.

"Sleep is for the weak." Alex replied brusquely. Burr, however, did not get the hint in Alex's tone of voice, instead opting to lean against his desk. Alex resisted the urge to shift the table forwards and watch Burr stumble, but refrained from doing so, getting a sense that Washington would be proud at his applaudable display of restraint.

"Sleep is important." Burr said, waving his hand with a vague dismissive gesture, making it easy to read the mark on his palm ( _"fuck you for being so cute, it's making it very difficult to be mad at you"_ ).

"Financial stability is more important." Alex retorted, pronouncing his words carefully so they didn't come out as a slurred jumble. Burr sighed, fixing Alex with a worn out expression.

"Just take it easy, Alexander." 

Alex wanted to reply in the negative, preferably with as many profanities as possible, but held it back. Logically, he knew he was running on rapidly evaporating, coffee-less fumes; Burr wasn't even acting that annoying -  _yet_  - but Alex couldn't easily dismiss his growing frustration.

Instead of giving a verbal reply, he chose to grit his teeth, thinning his lips as he scribbled random words loudly on the paper, watching Burr turn to leave out of the corner of his eye. It meant that his second draft was ruined, but at least he got his own petty revenge, the budding aggravation that had building up promptly subsiding. As soon as Alex saw Burr disappear from his line of vision, he breathed out a sigh of exhaustion at the tattered paper. Instead of complaining out loud to nobody in particular, he tightened his jaw, reaching for more lined paper.

He physically jumped when he heard front door (slam) open.

Instinctively, Alex's hackles were raised; in strolled Jefferson, looking far too smug for a Wednesday morning, equipped with his usual alarmingly bright apparel. Madison was apparently in tow, being all but dragged behind him, stumbling over his own feet as he hurried to match Jefferson's fast pace.

Without a word, Jefferson sauntered past him, and, scarcely glancing downwards or pausing in his stride, set something on Alex's desk. He didn't even look for Alex's (bewildered) reaction as he continued to make his way to his own desk, Madison following closely with an expression of mild amusement. For several seconds, Alex was stunned, watching Jefferson walk away. Then, his eyes drifted towards what was, on closer inspection, a paper cup.

A paper cup from the local coffee shop.

Alex looked at it, briefly wondering if it was poisoned. With a careful hand, he picked up the warmed paper, eyes narrowed in suspicion, turning it over in his hands.

In looping, elegant sprawl, a note read:

_I promise it's not poisoned_.

Alex frowned, recognising the long curve of the ' _s_ 's and not quite placing it. He carefully opened the lid, startled to see that it was black coffee - his personal preference. He briefly wondered if, or how, Jefferson knew what type of coffee to get, before he got distracted; the scent of coffee was rich and relaxing and  _nothing_  like the cheap instant make that Alex sporadically bought and John sporadically demolished.

The taste was pleasant and blunt and Alex could already feel his mind sharpening, eyes focused and words reduced to a steady stream instead of the previous spiraling hurricane. He gave a content hum, shoulders relaxing.

He should really thank Jefferson for the coffee.

This thought had him tensed again, a pensive frown on his face. Thanking someone was something Alex was not used to. Thanking _Jefferson_ , of all people, was not something Alex could have envisioned a day or so ago, unless, of course, a heavy dose sarcasm accompanied it. Taking one last reflective sip of coffee, he stood up, mind already thinking of different ways to sound or act.

The door to Jefferson's office was ajar. Rather awkwardly, he rapped his knuckles against the door frame, feeling immensely out of place, especially when it was Jefferson who glanced up first, dark eyes pining him to the spot. All previous plans on what to do or say were promptly forgotten. Alex wanted to speak, to say something, yet Jefferson's stare was so goddamn intense, and he couldn't even glance away.

It took Alex a few seconds to realise that Jefferson was waiting for him to say something.

"Thank you." Alex said, then cleared his throat, feeling like a complete idiot. Jefferson merely looked at him, one eyebrow raised, so he hastily elaborated. "For the coffee. That you left. On my desk. A few minutes ago."

There was silence.

Then, a sharp nod of acknowledgement, color rising endearingly to Jefferson's cheeks. Alex blinked, unsure of what to do with himself. He wrung his hands together, worrying at his his bottom lip, before turning on his heel in attempts to salvage any traces of dignity left.

"Seriously, though,  _coffee_?" He heard Madison ask. There was a defensive murmur, but Alex was too far away to make out any words.

 

 

**

 

 

It was a shame Alex was going to freeze to death, but at least the weather was pretty to look at. The sky was a cloudless and dreary blue, as though it too had just woken up and needed a few moments to adjust itself before it could return to its usual splendor. There was no wind, so the cold was merely  _there_ , inhaling any heat conserved and breathing out ice. John in particular had found child-like glee in using his breath, which would condense before his eyes, to mimick smoking, pretending to take long drags of a cigarette and slowly exhaling pale air.

Alex bitterly regretted not bringing a coat, even though he was given a text from Hercules specifically reminding him to do just that. If Hercules were there, he would tell that it was his own fault that he was left shivering, hunched in on himself to conserve any heat. 

The walk to the White House was usually boring and dull, but today John was bored enough to tag along, having taken a day off from work. They walked in companionable quiet, which was promptly broken by a sudden, loud curse.

"Oh, damn, he's cute." John exclaimed, eyes wide. Alex spun around, half expecting to see Jefferson, but was surprised to see a pensive looking Burr.

" _Aaron Burr_?" Alex asked, voice raised incredulously, glancing at John for confirmation.

"That's his name?" John asked, then let out a low whistle. "I think Aaron Laurens would sound so much better."

Alex promptly choked on air.

"Holy shit, John!" He spluttered, shooting John a glare. "You can't just say things like that."

"In my defense." John said, blinking owlishly. "John Burr isn't as catchy."

"John Laurens-Burr, then." Alex retorted, then paused, doing a mental backtrack. He grimaced when he saw John nod eagerly, eyes wide. Alex tried, and failed, not to think about Jefferson. If they got married, what would their last names be? Again, Alex mentally backtracked; not because the idea was stupid, but because neither of them would want to change their names.

At this thought, Alex nearly slapped himself. Instead, he settled for biting his lip, trying to stop his mind from repeating the thought of marriage, of getting married to a man he was supposed to loathe (but  _couldn't_ ).

"Aaron Laurens-Burr." John pronounced his words slowly, syllables rolling off his tongue as though they were meant to be there in the first place. "What do you think?"

Privately, Alex could admit that the hyphenated surname was actually decent.

Outwardly, however, he said:

"I think I need new friends."

"Great idea!" John beamed, and Alex was being pushed towards Aaron's general direction. "Go and introduce yourself to my future husband."

"The sheer amount of times you've forced me to introduce myself to people you find cute, Laurens."

"Yeah, well, suck it up, Hamilton, 'cause this guy beats them  _all_." John insisted, eyes wide and serious. "You'll be the best man at our wedding."

" _You_  go over there." Alex retorted, arms crossed. At John's offended glower, he hastily added: "I can't guarantee that Burr won't fall for my charm."

"Damn it, you're right." John cursed, violently scuffing the pavement with the heel of his shoe. Alex watched John have a mental debate with himself, before he sighed. "I don't even know if he'd like me."

"It's a very Burr-thing to say." Alex offered, gesturing at his own neck. John grimaced, shifting his weight.

"Is Aaron that much of an asshole?"

"Kind of, but he means well." Alex shrugged. "Self aware but still a twat is more Jefferson's role."

"Jefferson." John repeated, eyebrows raised. There was an expectant pause. Alex sighed, trying to think of the best way to elaborate, glancing longingly at the closed doors of the White House in hopes of rescue.

"Tall."  _Handsome_. "Shit policies."  _Smart._  "Stupid fashion sense."  _Unique_ , nothing like Alex ever expected and that consistently left him off-kilter, struggling to put together words coherent enough to form a sentence.

"You do know you're blushing, right?" John mused, arms crossed and peering at Alex as though he had never seen him before. Alex scowled, knowing full well he was right.

"No I'm not." A blatant lie, but thankfully they both ignored it.

"You're lucky you've got to go inside and work. We  _will_  have a talk about this illusive  _Jefferson_ , though." John threatened, waggling an index finger at Alex's face. 

Alex scowled, swatting his hand away before flipping John off. With one last glance at his friend, he opened the door to the White House and stepped inside, frustrated when he discovered that there was no added heating.

With a small scowl, he crossed his arms tightly across his chest, glaring at the table, which unfortunately did not incinerate.

He felt, rather then saw, the warm weight being draped across his shoulders. He turned around in his chair, about to snap at whoever had bothered him, but paused the at the sight of a significantly blazer-less Thomas Jefferson. Jefferson raised an eyebrow in challenge, but didn't say anything; he walked on, over to his place. The cold didn't seem to affect him whatsoever.

Alex's face flushed, realisation hitting him, even as he clung onto the warm blazer draped across his shoulders. In his defence, not only was it warm, but its scent was appealing - warm cinnamon, with an undertone of something intoxicatingly masculine that definitely belonged to Jefferson. It was all Alex could do but not make a show of himself by burying his nose in the (still very magenta, and agony to look at) fabric and just  _inhale_. At that thought, Alex felt his face heat up even more, the previous cold completely forgotten about.

Alex turned to glance at Jefferson again. He was looking at Alex with dark, unreadable eyes. Besides him, Madison looked to be in great pain, eyebrows pinched and jaw tight.

Alex allowed himself to enjoy the heat the blazer provided. He wanted to thank Jefferson, but for some reason, this felt more personal than the coffee - more intimate, as though Alex had stumbled upon a secret he was not meant to hear.

When Washington walked into the cabinet, eyes travelling over everyone inside, he did a physical step backwards, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. It was comical, and Alex would've laughed if he personally wasn't trying to fasten the new scent to him by sheer willpower alone. Washington blinked, then shook his head, looking decisively too old for this situation. After a bewildered side-along glace at Jefferson, Washington cleared his throat.

"Right. The issue on the table." Washington began, glancing wearily at Alex then at Jefferson with an exhausted frown. "Should we introduce a new financial plan?"

 

 

**

 

 

_Your politics are shit and you should feel bad._

The note was waiting for Alex as he got back from the morning cabinet meeting, sellotaped to the top of Alex's computer. He frowned, setting down the file he was given, getting a closer look at the oddly familiar handwriting.

Alex stared.

The note stared back.

He didn't even need to ask around the office to know who placed the note. Without glancing up, he yanked his paper note pad from the metal desk tidy, and, with a black pen, he wrote, in large, block letters:

_Your fashion sense is shit_.

With a grin slowly forming, he casually strolled past Jefferson's office, orange paper note in hand. Jefferson glanced up, looking far too pleased with himself, but the corners of his lips quirked up in a genuine smile when Alex slapped the note down. Jefferson raised an eyebrow, and Alex could feel Jefferson's eyes on his back as he walked off.

"Hamilton...?" Madison asked, frowning deeply at him as he passed. Alex didn't reply, glancing over his shoulder. This seemed to confuse Madison, and he turned to stare down the corridor.

They stood like that for a few seconds, staring into empty space in complete silence.

"Well." Madison eventually said, clearing his throat. "It was nice talking to you."

"Yes." Alex replied.

Another pause. Madison stared at him, eyebrows furrowed, but when Alex frowned at him to elaborate, he merely shook his head, bemused smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

There was one more exchange of cautiously confused looks, until Alex turned on his heel, walking to his office and not looking back.

He was bored, yet distracted at the same time. Trying to focus on his work would require too much effort, even when he was consciously ignoring the everpresent need to glance up and check on whatever Jefferson was doing.

Spamming John with messages would only give temporary distraction, and after John politely told him to  _shut the hell up_ , he was left bored and impatient. Tapping his pen impatiently only succeeded in a grimacing Burr awkwardly asking him to  _please, stop that, since it's a tiny bit annoying_. He quickly grew tired of making paper airplanes, even when deciding to make at least twenty of them _accidently_  fly into Burr's office. To his surprise, he received one back, but was disappointed to see that it said, in neat writing, ' _sweet Jesus, stop spamming me,_ ' and, in Alex's defence, he _did_ comply - after sending ten more. Burr's handwriting seemed vaguely familiar, as though he had seen it somewhere significant before, but he couldn't quite place it. He was left with less paper, no work done, and bored out of his mind.

A quick glance at his watch showed that only twenty minutes had passed since the cabinet meeting.

He sighed, suddenly getting the feeling that he was moving far slower than usual.

Caffeine wouldn't hurt, right?

Caffeine solved all of life's problems.

With that in mind, he grabbed his mug and set off to the communal kitchen. He opened the cabinet and did a physical backtake when he saw the florescent pink that was plastered against the jar of coffee.

Holy  _shit_.

_I didn't see you complaining this morning. - T.J_

He gaped at the note. How did Jefferson-?

Alex saw this as a challenge.

Immediately disregarding the pleasant prospects of coffee, he lunged at a pen on a nearby counter, dozens of sharp retorts battling for dominance.

_Ah, you didn't see me? Were you too blinded by your clothing choice_? -  _A.H_

Now it was a matter of waiting.

He awkwardly hovered around the outskirts of his office, trying to pretend that he wasn't spying on Jefferson. Minutes passed. Alex sighed, resisting the urge to check his phone.

Finally, Jefferson left his office, with Madison in tow. Jefferson shot him a deeply suspicious look as he passed. Madison merely gave him a look.

"So?" Madison said expectantly. At Alex's slightly speculative look, he sighed. "You don't recognize the writing."

"I do." Alex said defensively. "It's Jefferson's handwriting."

"Jesus. What _else_ is it?"

"Rather elegant?" Alex offered, before quickly correcting himself. "I mean, for terrible penmanship, it's decent."

"Why don't you two talk? Like normal human beings?" Madison asked in a worn tone of voice that indicated he had already given up. Alex didn't reply, too busy watching Jefferson pass the corner, before springing into action.

With a bright green paper note and a iron clad willpower, he slid into Jefferson's office. Surprisingly, Jefferson had kept his door unlocked, which left his office wide open and vulnerable. Alex resisted the cackle that was threatening its way up his throat. On Jefferson's (surprisingly minimalistic, since Alex was expecting a miniature water fountain or something equally dramatic) desk lay an open notebook, and, with a small grin, Alex stuck his note to the open page and closed it for good measure.

Quickly, he hurried back to the communal kitchen and attempted a casual lean. He watched Jefferson pass him, shooting Alex a speculative look as he brushed past him. Alex watched him pass, inexplicably fond.

"What...?" Burr asked, turning to watch Jefferson leave. "Alexander, why did Thomas look at you as though you were about to stab him?"

Alex didn't reply, merely smirking as he sipped his coffee and stared into space.

"Alexander?" Burr asked, sending Alex a concerned look, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to step several places back and guarantee that Alex didn't have a concealed weapon.

"Aaron?" Alex replied lightly, ignoring the unfamiliarity of Burr's first name.

"You have a note on your back." Burr said, the lilt in his voice evidently asking a question.

Of course he did.

"Thanks." Alex said. Refusing to define the cause for the sudden giddiness that had inexplicably gripped him, he put a cautious hand to his back and found the note (in the shape of a horse, naturally).

_No, actually, I was blinded by the shining ignorance of your policies, which, by the way, are all_ shit _. - T.J_

Despite himself, Alex grinned. He set the mug of coffee down on the countertop, hurrying to his office and ignoring the heavy sigh that Burr exhaled. He grabbed the nearest collection of post it notes, shoving them in his blazer pocket just in case. Preparedness always paid off.

_You're shit. - A.H_

With that genius, _inspired_ comeback, he made his way up to Jefferson's office, feigning casual innocence. This note was stuck to the doorframe. He passed by, trying to reject the small grin that wanted to form, but as he turned, he felt something hit is back.

Well, that was fast.

_Is that all you got, Hamilton? - T.J_

He directed his glare to an innocently frowning Jefferson, who was leaning agaisnt the doorframe to his office, next to the post-it note Alex had left.

Without a word, Alex pulled out the pen and post-it notes that he opted to carry around.

With a small grin, Alex watched Thomas go back into his office to retrieve one of his own. Alex took his time to carefully write out the reply, folding his note into a miniature airplane.

_No, and my name is Alex, not Hamilton. - A.H_

_Then I'm Thomas, not Jefferson, but that doesn't change the fact that you're stalling. - T.J_

_Fuck off and let me think for a second, okay? - A.H_

Four notes hit him in rapid succession. In response, he directed a venomous glower at Thomas, who merely raised an eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders as though he had no idea where the notes were coming from. With a small, put on sigh, he opened them, and was unsurprised to see that they all consisted of one word.

_Alex - T.J_

_Alex - T.J_

_Alex - T.J_

_Alex - T.J_

_Holy shit, shut up! Let me think! - A.H_  

He scrunched up in a ball, aiming for Thomas's smug face and wasn't remotely surprised when it completely missed. Thomas stared at him, then at the note, then back at Alex, looking supremely unimpressed.

The next note from Thomas was in the form of a paper airplane, which did several long, elegant loops, before landing besides Alex's foot.

_If it's about my style again... - T.J_

_~~Your style is~~  No it's not. - A.H_

_Ha. You're unoriginal. - T.J_

_Shut up. Let me think. - A.H_

_Aw, do you need help coming up with a comeback? Want me to come over and hold your hand? - T.J_

Alex stilled, rereading that note with wide eyes. He reread it once again, trying to see if the note had actually said that.

~~What~~   ~~Jef~~   _Thomas_.  _Go and choke. - A.H_

_Darling, that wasn't exactly a no. - T.J_

Upon reading this, Alex's face burned as he choked on air. He shot Thomas an indignant glower, willing the rise of color away. Judging by the smug grin he was given, he had spectacularly failed in that task. 

_Where the hell are you getting these damned post-it-notes, anyway? - A.H_

_Running low? - T.J_

_No. - A.H_

_If you must know, I got them online. You should really look it up. - T.J_

_Fuck off, I know what the internet is. - A.H_

_Well done, you get a medal. What's next on your list of discoveries? The sky? Fire? - T.J_

_As much as I enjoy watching your stupid post it notes get stupider, I have a life. - A.H_

_What? - T.J_

_Holy shit, you do? - T.J_

_Hysterical. - A.H_

_Aw, darling, don't leave me now. We can work things out! - T.J_

Alex tried to hide his face behind his hands, willing the embarrassment away. Naturally, Thomas took Alex's hesitation as an advantage, and Alex saw the paper airplane before he caught it.

_Getting flustered? - T.J_

When Alex glanced up to glare, he was met with Thomas's goddamn smirk that he swore to himself was not attractive at all. He stared for a few seconds longer, eyes definitely not glancing down at soft-looking lips, before writing out a sprawling reply.

_Holy shit, you're actually the worst. No, I'm just overwhelmed by your annoyingness. I'm going for coffee. Try not to annoy too many people. - A.H_

With that, Alex briskly stood up, ignoring the glare of mock offense he was given in response.

It was only when he was back in his own office, finally able to focus on writing, did he realise that he was smiling. And the thought of _why_ he was smiling gave him butterflies.

 

 

**

 

 

This time, when Alex informed Lafayette about the recent incident, he gave a long, weary sigh, as though the weight of world rested solely on his shoulders. Then, when Alex's response was clearly considered lacking, Lafayette sighed again, louder, as though the weight of every dimension in the universe rested entirely on him.

"What?" Alex asked, frowning. Lafayette fixed him a look, as though he were being spectacularly dull.

"Alex, _mon cher_ , you are  _flirting_  with a man who you vowed you would fight to the death."

"I'm not flirting." Alex scoffed, cursing the contradictory heat that rose to his cheeks. "I'm just having a conversation."

"Ah,  _of course_." Lafayette said in a voice that somehow made Alex feel as though he didn't quite believe him. "Let me see your little love notes from him?"

"No, go away, they're mine." Alex immediately responded, hand instinctively gripping the inside blazer pocket where he knew all the notes resided. It felt wrong, as though by showing Lafayette the notes, he was telling a personal secret. For a second too late, he realised Lafayette had called them  _love notes_ , and he gave an indignant squawk of objection.

"Why won't you just speak to him?" Lafayette asked, head tilted and grinning.

"What should I say? Oh, hi, Thomas! I know that you think all my policies are stupid, and you're completely wrong about that, and I  _know_  your policies are stupid, but you're cute. Let's go out for coffee and discuss  _stationary_ , because we can't talk about our job without getting into a paper note war."

"Maybe don't call his policies stupid." Lafayette mused, hand under chin in pensive thought.

"Maybe his policies shouldn't be stupid." Alex retorted. 

"Maybe you should ask him out."

"Maybe I shouldn't." Alex retorted, his hand resting on his left arm. At this gesture, Lafayette frowned, sitting up, hand instinctively going against his wrist.

"Do you think it could be him?" Lafayette asked, eyes wide and alight with earnest curiosity.

Alex merely looked at Lafayette, but when his answer wasn't clear enough, he sighed. "No." 

"But..." Lafayette prompted, nudging him with his foot and disregarding the small glare Alex sent him.

"I hope so." Alex eventually conceded in a sigh.

 

 

**

 

 

There was no harm in _asking_.

At least, Alex could try to convince himself this statement was true. Unfortunately, he was able to create hundreds of scenarios, several of them involving brutal rejection or outright mockery. Most of them concluded with Alex moving to a rural part of Scotland and living a new life under a pseudonym.

His hands were shaking.

He blamed it on low temperature.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he tried to remind himself that nothing bad could happen. They were both adults, perfectly capable of going out for coffee or dating.

The thought of dating Thomas caused his cheeks to heat up, heartbeat increasing. The knowledge that he _wanted_ this more than anything else was terrifying.

Before he could talk himself out of asking, Alex squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath as he slowly made his way down the corridor. Each step caused his heart to beat louder, more insistent. He paused outside of Thomas's office, biting his lip.

"-things?" He heard a voice say, Madison's voice, and Alex felt supremely unprepared for what he was about to say, especially if Madison was there. He could handle rejection, but rejection in front of other colleagues felt like overkill.

"Fine." Thomas replied in his Virginian drawl, only made recognisable from the occasional comments made during cabinet meetings.

"You know that's not what I was asking." Madison deadpanned. 

"I don't understand, James. I go to speak and I just-" Thomas cut himself off, giving an audible sigh.

"You only meet your soulmate for the first time once." As soon as Madison said this, Alex's left arm burned with five unspoken words.

Immediately, Alex tensed, getting the vague sense that he was intruding in on a very private conversation that he was not meant to hear. Instead of backing away, like all of his instincts told him to do, he remained carefully still, glancing behind him.

"Right." Thomas said flatly.

"Really."

"I just met him. And-" Thomas sighed. "Fuck. I care about him so _goddamn much_. It isn't even funny."

"That's natural. Hell, it's expected."

"So, after meeting your soulmate, you should awkwardly waltz around him, trying to persuade him to merely _look_ _in your direction_ , and _failing_?"

"Don't say that. He  _stares_ in your direction. It's quite distracting, actually."

"What if I say the wrong thing?" 

"You won't, Thomas. I promise." James mused, and Alex could hear the shrug in his words. "His mark - unfortunately, it's painfully in character for you."

"You say that as though that's a bad thing." Thomas muttered, sounding more amused than offended.

"Do you want to know what his words are?"

"No." The response was immediate.

"I didn't expect any other answer." James said, a smile in his tone. 

"You wouldn't tell me if I asked."

"No, I wouldn't." James agreed easily.

Alex slowly backed away, pulse racing, throat tight as he tried to wrap his mind around _what the hell just happened_.

 

 

**

 

 

"Laf?" Alex asked, clinging onto his phone like a lifeline, breath a lot steadier than he thought. "Hey. There's been a - development."

There was a pause. The sound of shuffling. Then, a small sigh.

"One second." Lafayette replied tersely, before handing up. Alex blinked, staring at his phone with wide eyes. His heart was racing, thoughts jumbled and mixing. He had messaged John, but lacked any response.

He wanted to pace up and down the office, but didn't have the energy. Focusing on writing only temporarily helped his distraction.

Thomas had a _soulmate_.

Not just that, but Thomas had met his soulmate, and Thomas's soulmate was a _he_. Which meant that Alex had had a _chance_ \- however slim it might have been - and he had missed it.

"Alex, are you okay?" Hercules asked, startling him out of his thoughts. He glanced up, surprised when he saw both Lafayette and Hercules standing by his office door, wearing matching frowns.

"Of course I am." Alex said quickly, then cleared his throat.

"You just look a bit - sad." Hercules elaborated with a concerned lilt to his tone. At this, Lafayette stilled, eyes widening.

" _Mon enfant, non_!" Lafayette all but shrieked, moving quicker than lightning, leaping onto Alex and enveloping him in a bone crushing hug. Alex wriggled, trying to free himself out of Lafayette's grasp, which only succeeded in Lafayette tightening his already tenacious grip.

"When I die, tell my story." Alex seethed to a widely grinning Hercules.

"No." Hercules replied. "Where's the coffee?"

"I'm not telling you." Alex retorted. At this, Lafayette finally released Alex from his hold, and pointed vaguely to the communal kitchen. Hercules nodded, eyes widening comically at some nonverbal cue Lafayette had evidently sent, before he backed away.

"What happened?" Lafayette asked, head tilted to the left and eyebrows raised in genuine concern.

"You really didn't have to come." Alex said, glancing down at the floor.

"I know." Lafayette shrugged, unconcerned. "I wanted to."

"Right."

"So?" Lafayette prompted. "What happened?"

"Thomas has met his soulmate." The words were mumbled, strange to say outloud. As though saying it would add a finality to his words.

"Oh." Lafayette said slowly, then his eyes widened, and he repeated, with much more vigour, " _Oh_."

"Yeah." Alex replied awkwardly. Lafayette fixed him a searching look, eyes soft.

"Whether you like it or not, mon cher, Hercules and I are going to stay for an hour or two." Lafayette decided, chin raised to show no room for debate.

"Or four." Hercules added, entering Alex's office, nodding sagely whilst sipping a mug that read  _'Number One Mom._ ' 

 

 

**

 

 

The office was dark, illuminated only by a solitary computer screen. Lafayette and Hercules had left half an hour ago, leaving behind an empty coffee mug and the promise (or threat, varying on how you looked at it) of an upcoming visit. Alex felt exhausted and oddly disoriented despite the fact that he had developed a sudden interest in unbonded couples.

The first article was blunt, formal and lacked opinion. It described the significant rise of divorce in unbonded couples, but also suggested that was due to the consistent backlash given.

The second one, however, Alex wanted to click off of immediately, or smash the computer screen with his fist.

 

_"Unbonded couples are unnatural." Dr Grenville, a local biologist, states. "Soulmates are biologically designed to match eachother. To disrupt the natural pattern is to go against nature. To put it simply; it is not right."_

_Another specialist in soulmates, Jacques Prevost, furthers this claim. "Soulmates are successful eighty nine percent of this time. The other, lesser percentage is made up of the unfortunates that have had their soulmates ripped away from their embraces - or the people that are afraid of destiny, or of challenge. It is a sad fact: people go against what's natural to meet their own wants instead of the society's - and their partner's - needs."_

_More studies show that unbonded couples are less likely to stay together, with divorce rates higher than fifty percent. Admittedly, three percent of the population has a one sided bond, and an even smaller one percent are born without marks whatsoever, but should that four percent disrupt the natural order of things?_

 

Alex sighed. The best course of action was, naturally, to write a very strongly worded counter argument and post it in the comments section, but not only was it getting late - the lack of natural light in the room underlined this fact - but Alex didn't have the energy. Just reading that article had physically exhausted him. Unbonded couples were still causing stigma, and Alex wanted to bash his head against the keyboard.

Repeatedly.

With a defeated sigh, he placed his hands underneath his jaw, eyes tiredly rereading the last phrase. In that moment, he was far older than he actually was, feeling a rush of kinship for both Washington and Burr.

A flash of white darted across the screen.

He blinked, staring at what was, upon closer inspection, a paper airplane.

It took him a few seconds to realise what he was looking at, but when he did, the frustration he had felt eased up.

"Nice aim." He offered, small grin automatically in place, swiveling around in his chair to face a crossarmed Thomas. The grin flickered briefly when he remembered why he was researching unbonded couples in the first place, but he turned before his change of expression could be observed, opting instead to pick up and unfold the paper airplane.

_You act like a gremlin. It doesn't help that you've chosen to leave the lights off - T.J_

Alex huffed, glaring at Thomas in mock offence before allowing a smile, carefully refolding the airplane and setting it on his desk tidy.

"Better?" Alex asked, turning on the lamp on his desk and blinking against the sudden assault of light. Thomas quirked an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe with a tiny smile. It was then that Alex noticed Thomas wasn't empty-handed.

"What're you going to do with that?" Alex gestured at the slim bottle Thomas held. In lieu of response, Thomas gave a mock salute, before throwing the bottle back. He then crossed the room to lean on Alex's desk, casting a conspicuous glance at the article still open on his computer screen.

"Mind if I have some?" Alex asked. Thomas cocked an eyebrow, but nonetheless passed the bottle to him. Alex grimaced at the taste, cloyingly sweet.

"You're quiet, you know that?" Alex offered softly to a silent room, and wasn't surprised when he received a nonverbal reply. Thomas shrugged, retrieving the bottle back from him and taking a small swig.

"It'd be nice to talk to you." Alex added, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. When he opened his eyes, Thomas seemed pensive, eyes fixed on Alex, but didn't reply. Eventually, Alex sighed.

"We really shouldn't drink on a work night." Alex pointed out. At this, Thomas smirked, taking another sip whilst maintaining eye contact. Alex stared, unable to look away from Thomas's dark eyes, the bottle touching Thomas's lips. Alex felt his throat go dry.

"Fuck it." Alex announced, grabbing the bottle off of him and taking a small swig. Thomas rolled his eyes, but was smiling fondly at Alex as he scrunched up his nose at the expensive, almost perfume-like taste.

They spent minutes like that, passing the bottle back and forth in silence.

Then, Thomas sighed, then glanced at the computer screen, looking at Alex to elaborate.

"Unbonded soulmates." He answered.

Thomas raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Research."

A curious head tilt.

"For stuff."

Thomas merely looked at him, and Alex sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Long story." He replied tersely, even though it really wasn't. He paused for a second, listening to the heavy silence, before reaching over to grab the bottle. Thomas, of course, quickly moved away, smirking when Alex gave a startled yelp.

Alex rolled his eyes, leaning back against his desk, allowing a small smile to pull at his lips. He sent a sidelong glare at Thomas, which quickly turned into a gaze. All Alex could do was stare at Thomas's lips, which looked like they would be soft and warm against his own. Dark eyes met his own, and Alex could feel his breath leave him. All at once, it occurred to him how _easy_ it would be. To close the gap between them. To feel Thomas's lips against his own. His heartbeat was loud in a silent room, an unsteady rhythm in a still room. 

He blinked, directing his stare to a corner of the room, feeling heat rapidly rise to his face.

Evidently, he had a lower alcohol tolerance than expected.

Alex could feel Thomas's gaze remain on him for a few seconds longer, before he, too, looked away. The silence of the room was stifling, stretched taut like a bowstring, yet Alex couldn't find himself doing anything to break it.

He bit his lip, eyes still cast to the floor, the silence growing louder.

Fuck it.

"Pass?" Alex asked, voice loud and confident in a still room, holding his hand out. Thomas merely looked at him, hand protectively clutching the wine bottle, and just like that, the tension dispersed into comfortable quiet. With a put on sigh, Alex leaned off the table, crossing his arms, fixing Thomas a steely glare.

Thomas raised an eyebrow, standing to his full height.

It was then that it occurred to Alex that 5'4" wasn't actually an intimating height, especially when he knew twelve year olds taller than him.  

Regardless, Alex reached for the bottle and missed completely. Thomas was smirking, and this time, when Alex tried to grab the bottle, Thomas caught his wrist. His touch felt like fire against Alex's skin, but Alex didn't mind being burned. 

"Just because I'm short doesn't mean you have to lord my height over me." Alex frowned. "I didn't think you would sink that low."

It had the desired effect; Thomas raised a supremely unimpressed eyebrow, momentarily distracted, so Alex moved quickly, reaching for the bottle and successfully grabbing it. 

With a grin, he knelt in the floor, glancing up at Thomas through his lashes and not noticing the sharp intake of breath that followed. He then slid into a cross-legged position, his back propped up by his desk and head tilted upwards, unconsciously bearing his neck. A few seconds hesitation, then Thomas joined Alex, giving him a small smile.

"I win." Alex said, taking a small sip from the bottle. Thomas rolled his eyes, merely giving Alex  _a look_ in response. Time passed, and Alex shifted, tightening the cap and placing it on the floor besides him.

"How are you, anyway?" Alex asked, before feeling his face heat up. A relatively stupid question, since the start of the conversation had long since passed. Thankfully, the lack of light would shield Alex from making his embarrassment evident.

Thomas raised an eyebrow, taking a small sip of the bottle.

"Wait." Alex said, glancing at him and then at the wine bottle now in his hands. Thomas smirked as soon as Alex's eyes widened in indignation. " _How_?"

Thomas shrugged, smirking.

Alex frowned. From this angle, all of his attempts would be easy to predict. It meant a shift in position was needed. Biting his lip, he decided the best course of action. 

He pushed against Thomas's shoulder, holding him in place and tried to reach for the bottle. Naturally, of course, Thomas had predicted this move, and had moved backwards, which caused Alex to lean in so their chests were nearly touching.

Alex froze, holding still. His face was burning, stomach doing uncomfortable yet exhilarating flips. He saw that he was, in fact, positioned so he was straddling Thomas's hips, one hand holding Thomas's wrist - the one that clung onto the wine bottle - and the other hand now resting against Thomas's shoulder. He could feel the slow rise and fall of Thomas's chest. Their eyes met, and Alex felt his breath catch in his throat. Dilated eyes cut directly through him, and he could do little more than cling onto any semblance of control he had.

Alex glanced at Thomas's lips. 

There was a pause.

He wasn't sure who moved first - most likely him, but that didn't matter. Not when he was pressed flush against Thomas, lips  against Thomas's, and neither of them pulling back. Alex's mind stuttered to a grinding halt, his heart beating loud and quick, but he could feel Thomas's heartbeat too, in synch with his own. Thomas's lips were soft and warm and  _moving_  against his own, a gentle mouthing that coaxed Alex's lips to part.

_Fuck_ , Thomas could _kiss_.

They parted briefly for air, Alex's heart dizzily racing. The air seemed heavy, whipping with energy, all thoughts of the outside world blocked in a moment of contentment.

Alex knew he should pull back, lean away from addictive warmth, but he couldn't place why moving away was so important, not when his hands betrayed him by trailing up and down Thomas's chest, feeling the firm muscles press against his fingertips.

Then, Thomas leaned forward, meeting Alex's lips again, and and thought of resistance promptly disappeared, masked by a sudden jolt of need. Alex shifted closer, focusing on the warm body against him, the hand against the small of his back that pressed him closer. It was then that Thomas gently bit Alex's bottom lip, and he couldn't hold back the small gasp that followed, melting against Thomas.

Heady electricity sparked in his veins, something warm and heavy pooling in his chest. One of Thomas's hands carefully cupped his cheek, as though Alex was precious and needed to be handled gently, the rough pad of his thumb moving in circular motions. 

Another part for air. Alex kept his eyes shut, his lips slightly parted as he shakily breathed in. A gentle press of lips against his neck left Alex sharply breathing in, heart racing. The only thing he could do was not moan, bare his neck to allow more access. He leaned backwards, mourning the slight loss of heat, gazing at Thomas's face.

Holy _shit_.

Thomas looked fucking _debauched_.

There was no other word for it; eyes half closed, chest rising and falling, cheeks flushed, lips glossy and red because of _Alex_.

This sent a private thrill through him. He would have smirked at the way Thomas staring at him in what seemed like dazed amazement, but he couldn't think of anything other than pressing his lips against Thomas's.

Thomas quickly recovered, taking control of the kiss, gently nipping at Alex's lip that - _fuck_ \- caused him to _moan_ , embarrassingly wanton. Thomas, however, seemed to disagree; the sound encouraged him, pressing Alex closer to his chest, lips moving sinfully against Alex's own, each movement sending sparks of electricity.

When they parted for air, Thomas cupped Alex's face with both of his hands, dark eyes staring into Alex's own. The intensity of his gaze was able to make Alex become slightly sober. His breath was quick, the fog that had fallen across his mind thining.

Reality hit him.

Thomas had met his  _soulmate_. Which meant that Alex couldn't afford the hope that was now gnawing at him, wearing away any protests he might have had.

_God_.

He didn't even ask for _consent_. With this thought, Alex stood up, raking a shaking hand through his hair. "Holy shit, I'm - fuck, sorry, I'll just -  _fuck_."

Alex's gaze moved rapidly, shifting from the glaring light of the computer screen, to the bottle clasped tightly in Thomas's hand, to the floor, then to the door - anywhere that wasn't Thomas's face.

"Sorry." Alex repeated weakly, mind still hazy, heartbeat loud in his ears. He quickly backed away, focusing on the door, wanting the world to pause for a day or two so he could calm down and regroup.

There was a suffocating pause, one that mercilessly swallowed the entire room, thick and crushing and  _heavy_. Alex opened his mouth to say something - another apology, perhaps - yet all he could do was hurry from the room, away from the condemning silence.

There was an indistinctive shout, yet Alex wasn't listening out for it. He focused on the sound of his feet moving -  _fleeing_  - to the nearest exit.

 

 

**

 

 

Alex was restless. Relentlessly pacing in his apartment, up and down, did nothing to ease the nervous energy making it impossible to relax.

His apartment was shrouded in a cloak of darkness, light coming from the occasional pinprick of pale stars. It was relatively late; John was asleep, judging by the lack of greeting, yet Alex found that he didn't want to talk to John. His phone was in his hands - they were shaking, but Alex blamed that on the unusual coldness that swept across the room. It was difficult to focus on anything other than what happened, and Alex couldn't focus on that, not when the thought would cause dizziness to make him light-headed. He couldn't face Thomas, not after what had happened.

So he did the one thing he could think of.

By the third ring of the phone, Washington answered.

"Hello?" Washington's voice was tired, slightly slurred, vowels stumbling into eachother. A quick glance at Alex's watch told him that it was an hour or so off midnight.

"Uh..." Alex began, trailing off, grimacing as he tried to swallow down his sudden nausea.

"Alexander?" Washington asked, sounding far more awake than before.

"Hi." Alex offered awkwardly, pacing up and down his room to placate the sudden bout energy.

"Look, son, if this is about your plan again..."

"No, not at all." Alex blurted out, before inhaling deeply  "I was actually, um, calling in sick."

"You're calling in sick." Washington repeated, voice flat. "At... half past eleven."

"Yes." Alex confirmed. He then added a very, very convincing cough for good measure.

"Goodness, Alexander." Washington said, sounding very, very convinced. "With that cough, you might want to take the week off. Hell, take the month off. Or two months. Or six. So you can catch up on all the summer vacation leaves you refused. I mean, so you can recover."

"Yes." Alex said. "I agree."

There was a long pause. For a brief second, Alex had wondered if Washington had hung up.

"Seriously?" Washington asked. " _Six months_  of  _willing_ vacation leave?"

"In my defense, sir." Alex said. "It is a bad cough."

There was another pause, then a long-suffering sigh.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Son-"

"Really." Alex insisted, words sounding false to his own ears. "Nothing happened."

"Right." Washington said slowly, sounding relatively unconvinced, but thankfully didn't push the subject. "You just... work on recovering. Come back soon."

With that, Washington hung up, leaving Alex to his own thoughts. He wasn't looking forward to willing time from work, hours upon hours filled with stifling boredom, yet he knew that it was his own fault.

If he hadn't kissed Thomas, he wouldn't be (hiding? cowering?)  _recovering_  in his apartment, pacing up and down and up and down restlessly, taut like a spring ready to jump at the smallest relaxation of pressure. The whole night had felt like a dream, glazed over with cool wine and soft lips.

Yet the warmth that still burned against his lips was real. The warmth against his cheek, where Thomas had held him, felt branded onto his skin.

Perfectly, agonizingly real.

He knew he had to face Thomas at some point.

Just-

Not today.

Or tomorrow, for that matter.

 

 

**

 

 

' _Not today_ ' turned into four long, boring days where Alex would agonize over every little detail of that night. The taste of expensive wine. The taste of Thomas's  _lips_.

The last thought would never fail to cause his mind to go blank, mercifully forcing all of his thoughts to stutter to an abrupt halt.

Of course, it would only last for so long, before he would remember what happened.

Would Thomas be pissed?

Of course he would be. Thomas had met his  _soulmate_. Who was Alex to stand in the way of that?

Would Thomas feel  _betrayed_?

That thought made him nauseous. He could deal with anger, even fury, and remain intact. But if Thomas was quiet, if the air hung with the broken silence of shattered trust...

That would hurt more than anything Alex could imagine. 

 

 

**

 

 

He scuffed his shoes against the paving, eyes cast down and focusing on the sporadic cracks that forked like lightning against smooth stone. The walk to work was quiet, lonely, and Alex was left to his own thoughts.

Which were rather repetitive and beginning to tire him.

When he glanced up, finally walking into the grounds of the White House, he was left with the sense of impending doom. Madison was just outside the doors, seemingly waiting for Alex's arrival.

"Good morning, Alexander." Madison pronounced slowly, carefully, _calculated_. Alex froze, eyes wide and going completely still.

Oh no.

"Oh no." Alex said outloud, then cursed himself, rapidly flailing for a smooth recovery. "I mean - um - weather."

"Weather." Madison repeated.

Alex swallowed, nodding. " _Good_ weather."

Madison looked at him. Alex gestured vaguely to the sky, wanting nothing more than to run back to his and John's apartment. Madison continued to stare at him, eyes searching.

Dryly, "We both know why I'm here."

Nervously, "Do we?"

"We do." Madison confirmed, cutting straight to the point and Alex was left with conversational whiplash. "Thomas is looking like a kicked puppy, and it's  _your fault_."

" _Shit_."

"My thoughts exactly." Madison deadpanned, before fixing Alex with a curious look. "What exactly did you do?"

"He didn't tell you?" Alex asked, confused, which only seemed to frustrate Madison.

"No, because for _four days straight_ , he was busy staring at the door, waiting for _someone_ to appear."

"Who?" Alex asked, surprising himself in how insistent he sounded.

"Dear god." Madison whispered, looking as though Alex had told him Christmas had been cancelled. "No. No, you cannot be _that_ stupid."

"I'm not stupid." Alex sniffed defensively.

"Sorry, oblivious." Madison ammended, shaking his head. "It takes a special brand of obliviousness to say what you just said."

"It's a valid question."

"No, it's not. Just-" Madison cut himself off, sighing. "Just tell me what you did, Alex, then we can fix this."

"I, uh. Might've kissed him?"

"Right." Madison said, unblinking as he looked at Alex to continue, as though it was common to kiss people that had met their soulmates.

"James." Alex stressed, voice rough with the scream he was holding back. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, you two kissed." Madison said flatly, sounding completely unbothered. "What happened then?"

"Holy shit, this is not helping." Alex groaned, covering his face with a hand.

"I don't see how you kissing him is an issue!"

"It just _is_." Alex expressed tersely. At this, Madison turned sharply on his heel, staring directly at Alex. A look quickly flashed across Madison's face.

"You know." Madison said carefully. "It's alright to like a man."

"Oh my god." Alex blinked, heat rising to his face. _"I know that_."

"Then I really don't see why you could possibly have an issue." Madison frowned, before his eyes widened. "Hamilton. _Tell me_ there _isn't_ someone on the side."

"What? No!"

"Thank _god_." Madison exhaled, hand on his heart. At Alex's bewildered look, he sighed, adding tersely, "Just asking."

"I'm really fucking confused."

"So am I." Madison muttered under his breath, mostly to himself, before shaking his head, propping the front door to the White House open with a hand. "Come on, the meeting's about to start."

With that, they walked in silence. Occasionally, Alex would think of ways to break it - perhaps talk about the nice weather they both knew they weren't having - but he didn't utter a word. His gaze was directed to the walls as they passed, surprising himself with the fact that he had never noticed that paint was cream, or that there was scarcely anything bar the sporadical painting of a past president. Finally, he and Madison came to a halt outside of the conference room

"James?" Alex asked, just as Madison's hand came to rest on the door handle.

"Alexander?" Madison turned to face him, head tilted to the left in genuine interest.

The question lay unbidden on his tongue, but he kept his jaw tightly locked. It wasn't his place to know who Thomas's soulmate was - he had done enough damage already.

He swallowed awkwardly. "Nothing."

"Hm." James replied, evidently speculative, before opening the door and leading the way through the conference room. Carefully, focusing on his feet and conscious of where he was going (and of the eyes following his steps), Alex was able to make it to his seat without further embarrassment.

"Son." Washington smiled, glancing up from the papers in front of him. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

"Uh. Yeah." Alex said, trying to shrink low in his seat, willing the heat in his face to to fade. He felt questioning eyes on him, but he refused to meet them with his own.

 

 

**

 

 

"Alexander? Could you stay back?" Washington's voice was calm, levelled. Alex glanced up, eyes wide, but Washington merely smiled at him. This caused Alex - however marginally - to relax. To slowly exhale the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Sir?" Alex asked, tone cautious.

"Good news." Washington smiled, pulling out a narrow black folder as he did so. "Your final draft for your financial plan has been put forward."

Alex blinked. Washington's's words took several seconds to settle in.

"What?" Alex asked, eyes wide. "Holy  _shit_ , are you serious?"

"As a heart attack." Washington smiled, apparently amused by Alex's shocked reaction. "In order for your plan to pass, you only need one more vote."

"Alright, I'll get it. Who's vote do I need?" Alex asked, shifting his weight to his heels in a sudden bout of restless excitement. Washington hesitated in replying, a small, rueful look flashing quickly across his face.

"... Jefferson's."

The world, Alex decided, has a funny sense of humour.

 

 

**

 

 

He could always _not_ ask for the vote.

This, at least, was an option. Facing Thomas scared the hell out of him. He could have dealt with anyone else - even Burr. Even as he thought that, he knew that avoiding Thomas couldn't be an option any more. 

At least, Alex mused to himself, glancing down at the folder that contained multiple signatures, he would have an excuse. With this in mind, he closed his eyes, summoning scraps of confidence that he was surprised he still had.

He swallowed against the sudden nausea and carefully knocked against the doorframe.

Madison glanced up.

Thomas did not.

"Mr Jefferson." Alex said, and _God_ , the formality was foreign. Despite this, voice was far more firm and confident than he actually was. Thomas glanced up, eyes widening in surprise as soon as he saw Alex. His eyes were uncomfortably calculating, remaining locked on Alex, as though challenging Alex to look away, to break the eye contact.

"I'm going to go." Madison said, words pronounced slowly, glancing at Thomas with his eyebrows raised, trying to read Thomas's expression. As Madison passed, he sent a warning look at Alex; eyes narrowed, yet softened slightly at the edges. Alex watched him leave with an emotion akin to frustration and the odd sense of betrayal.

Madison closed the door on his way out, preventing Alex from making a smooth exit.

"I - uh..." Alex trailed off, shifting his weight. Thomas was staring directly at him. Alex's heartbeat was impossibly fast. Alex glanced down - away from Thomas's eyes. He wanted to fidget, feeling restless yet rooted to the spot at the same time. When Alex looked back up, he saw a myriad of expressions flash across Thomas's face, before settling on painfully impassive.

"You didn't sign for the financial plan." He blurted out quickly, eyes lowered. When he did glance up, he could see something similar to disappointment flash across Thomas's face.

Neither of them moved.

Alex grimaced. "Look, about - what happened."

Alex wasn't sure what he should say next. Judging by the small frown Thomas wore, not did he. It was comforting to know that they were both equally in the dark, unsure of what to say now but wanting to say something.

For once, words failed Alex. He was left feeling scarily open, as though his lack of reply was underlining just how vulnerable he felt.

"Thomas, just say something." Alex eventually said, voice quiet yet carrying perfectly across the room. He felt his patience run thin and twist into something scarily akin to desperation. "Talk to me."

No response, but now Alex knew he had Thomas's full attention. 

"Tell me to go, and I'll go. Tell me to leave, to never speak to you again, and I will. Insult me, shout at me, say  _something._ "

Thomas appeared to have found something in Alex's words, as his expression softened. He seemed to be in deep, troubled thought, judging by the small frown.

"Your financial plan is shit." Thomas said. His words were strained, yet - oddly familiar.

_Wait_.

_Slow down_.

"Alex..." Thomas began, frowning as he worried at his bottom lip, shoulders tense. Alex stared at Thomas, finally able to meet his eyes, mind reeling. Thomas's eyes were wide and earnest, conveying a confusing mix of hope and worry.

He finally pieced it together.

" _Holy shit_." Alex whispered. Finally -  _finally_  - placing the words. Wide eyed, he stared at Thomas - his _soulmate_ \- and, for once, everything clicked into place.

**Author's Note:**

> hMmmMMmM alex, I wonder why Jefferson's handwriting is familiar, alex, it's not as though you, alex, have had it marking your skin, for years. Someone hug James and Lafayette before they have aneurysms.


End file.
